


Folded

by Mafief



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthday Cake, Gen, Paper football, Sherlock is bored
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 02:26:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12546736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mafief/pseuds/Mafief
Summary: John and Rosie are working on a surprise for Sherlock while Sherlock is very, very bored.





	Folded

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheWhiteLily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWhiteLily/gifts).



> Birthday fic for the wonderful TheWhiteLily. Happy birthday!!!!!! :D

Sherlock was bored. He was in between cases and had been cooped up inside for days. The frigid January weather and wind whipping up the snow dampened the inspirational muse for the criminal classes. Emails from his website were the unimaginative and simple cases that could be solved without much brainwork. Lestrade was not answering his texts because he was being tedious by taking a holiday and Sherlock was also under strict orders not to disturb him. Molly had no corpses of any interest in the morgue. Dull, dull, dull!

Rosie was helping Mrs Hudson with some baking and spent most of the morning away from the flat and Sherlock. That left John alone with the bored terror of Baker Street. Rounds of unsuccessful suggestions to get Sherlock to focus on something—anything--instead of driving himself and his flat mate insane were mostly ignored. John had moved to the kitchen to wash the dishes and requested that he clean the kitchen table. After sulking and purposely rearranging papers that were not in the kitchen, he relented and cleaned up an experiment on decomposition rates of charred versus uncharred tissue. He even moved his microscope. John scrubbed the table before claiming the table as his workspace.

That was over an hour hours ago. During that time, Sherlock attempted human origami by folding his long limbs into his chair as he brooded over the IQ of criminals synchronizing with the mercury levels. Bored with brooding, he tried making insane comments to John which were mostly ignored. John spent that time working on his laptop with the screen purposefully facing away from Sherlock. He also brought over writing supplies over and said he was going to help Rosie with spelling when she got back. With internet searches, typing, writing on a sheet of paper, and folding the said piece of paper, John’s attention was diverted. 

Rosie returned and the small of ginger and cinnamon trained after her. John scooped her up in his arms and wiped off the flour on her cheek. John held up the paper he had folded--it was in a triangular shape.

Rosie clapped with glee and grabbed the folded paper. “It’s ready! Can we play now?”

“Sure. See if Sherlock wants to play,” said John.

Rosie slipped out of John’s lap and skipped over to Sherlock who was still curled up in his chair. She grabbed Sherlock’s fingers and said “pull” as she tried, without any success, to physically move him from the chair. Reluctantly, Sherlock moved and she led him by the finger to the table.

“Sherlock’s on my team,” stated Rosie while waiting for Sherlock to sit down before she could crawl up on his lap. She could barely keep still as John explained the game.

“Right. A few Americans I met in the army showed me how to play paper football. Not the football we have here but American football. Not the point, the point of the game is to flick the paper across the table and have the edge hang off without falling. There are other rules and we’ll figure them out as we go.”

While the game was not dreadfully complicated, Sherlock amused himself by calculating the force needed to flick the paper football to the correct spot. By the fourth drive, Sherlock had already scored and Rosie was ecstatic. After scoring, John explained that they could kick a field goal for an extra point and proceeded to make a goalpost with his pointer fingers and thumbs. Rosie held the paper football for Sherlock and he flicked it towards the goalpost. It sailed over John and landed in goo of something near the fridge. Rosie retrieved the damp paper and frowned. “Dad, can we make another one?” 

“Sure, have Sherlock show you how to make one.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest but John stopped him. “Unfold the one I gave you. I’ll go get another piece of paper once you figured out how to fold it.”

Rosie stood by him and handed the paper over. Sherlock, with Rosie’s eager help, started unfolding the paper football.

“Look, Sherlock, writing. Can I read it to you?”

Sherlock nodded, but he already read the message.

_Dinner at 8, Angelo’s.  
Happy birthday_

He smiled and John walked over and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Mrs Hudson agreed to watch Rosie tonight and spoil her with leftover cake.”

“Dad, that was my secret!” Rosie attempted her most threatening glare, which only caused John to bite his lip and try to maintain his composure. She turned back to Sherlock. “Mrs Hudson and I made you a ginger cake. It’s still downstairs cooling. Dad says I can’t have cake before dinner, but maybe you can talk him into making an exception.”

“Well, what do you say?”

“Say yes, dad, please.”

John nodded yes knowing that he would have no chance convincing the two of them to wait. Rosie cheered and sped off to tell Mrs Hudson. John wrapped Sherlock in his arms and said, “Happy birthday.”


End file.
